


Crying Through Sex (The Golden Boy Becomes A God)

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dennis Reynolds, seventeen, is, according to him, many things. He's a high school senior, a cheerleader, a sociopath, a slut, a struggling anorexic, a not so struggling drug user, a stealth trans man, a not so closeted bisexual, and, of course, a golden god.Mac Macdonald, also seventeen, is, according to Dennis Reynolds, a theatre kid, a drug dealer, an overeater, a very closeted gay man, and, unfortunately, a religious nut job/homophobe.They are, according to everyone, head over heels for each other.





	Crying Through Sex (The Golden Boy Becomes A God)

It's 1990, the summer before ninth grade, and the night is cool and fast flowing. Dennis didn’t get invited to Maureen Ponderosa’s fourteenth birthday party but he can hear her tinny pop music blasting from across the way just as well as everyone who’s actually in attendance can. It sounds like all the shitty CDs his sister Dee plays in their room and he’s sure it must be one of the same whiny, fake deep artists she loves so much. 

From the upstairs window, he can spy all the goings on of the party as the guests, Dee included, arrive in the evening and as the night goes on and the street clears. He must be the only neighbour left at home. Everyone else under the age of twenty within a block radius is inside with the pulsating lights and the ear splitting music. All, minus Maureen herself, who, between seven and eight O’clock has taken to sitting down on her own front porch, slumping over into her own lap, and sobbing violently. 

Dennis is the only one who can see or hear this. He watches as Maureen repositions herself and wipes her nose on the corner of one of her homemade cat T-shirts, and fixes her paw print skirt over her knees. He watches and feels a shifting inside of himself at the sight of this miserable girl, crying on her birthday. There’s a new stirring in his chest. 

Maybe it’s empathy, two lonely teenagers sharing in an emotion. 

But Dennis is convinced that he doesn’t have any empathy. They call him a sociopath at school. He hates them all and he doesn’t feel lonely for anyone. So it must be something else. 

He decides that it’s love. 

Maureen is just a pawn. She's all gangly limbs and too much too strong floral perfume. But she's also the girl next door. She dresses like a five year old and she's obsessed with horses. But she got her braces off a year and a half ago. And she likes Dennis. So Dennis decides that he loves her. 

Fourteen year old boys are supposed to run wild after girls like Maureen, to pull their long, stringy hair and kiss their puffy fish lips. Dennis decides that that’s what he wants. That’s why he’s staring out the window and watching her in such a vulnerable place. It's why his chest feels heavy at the sight of her. Voyeurism. Like a pervert peeking at a girl getting dressed, it’s all about sex. 

Fourteen year old boys are supposed to run wild after girls like Maureen, even have feelings for them sometimes. Dennis only ever gets feelings when he's high these days, but he knows what the physical symptoms are, so he mimics them. He gazes out at street below and wills his palms to sweat and his heart to quicken its pace. He thrusts his hand into his underwear, stares at Maureen with increased intensity, and wonders why it isn't working, why it isn't making him normal. All it does is anger him. His free hand curls into a fist at his side. He squints his eyes through darkness and wills the street lights flickering on to hold off ten seconds longer and let him pretend. 

Ten seconds and Maureen’s ugly horse face is illuminated from the side and now Dennis can see how her mascara has run down and stained her cheeks. The urge to go down and comfort her bites at his ankles. He could hug her, gently wrap her up in his arms and lend her a sweater so she wouldn’t tremble so much. Just to trick her into liking him, of course. If he tells himself that it’s an act of manipulation, that it's sexual, maybe he can actually help her. 

He unlatches the window and leans over the sill into the chilly air. Maureen looks up, sniffing, and turns red and still. Their eyes meet and Dennis pauses, uncertain where to go from there. 

“What the hell do you want, Dennis?” Maureen crosses her arms over her chest and stands up in defense. 

Dennis gives a rude gesture and slams the window shut. Steps away. Falls face down on his bed. Punches a pillow. Flushes bright pink. He's not embarrassed. He's not. 

There’s a thud on his door that catches him off guard. It pounds once against it, then speaks. “Go get your girlfriend to turn that crap down before I call the cops.” It’s Frank, not angry but commanding. "And make sure Deandra isn't dead or drunk while you're over there." 

“I’m not your messenger pigeon, old man.” Dennis grumbles into his blanket. 

“If I had to categorize it, I'd say your more like one of those yappy little dogs that all the teenage girls keep in their purses. ” 

“Whatever.” 

He steps out onto the empty street and into a fog of screeching sound. Maureen spots him immediately, leaps up from her spot, and sprints toward her front door, as if Dennis is somehow a threat to her personal safety. He chases after her. She yelps for help but he's quicker than she is and nobody hears over the music. The lock is halfway in, when he grabs her wrist to stop its journeydownward. They face off for a second, before Maureen leans in and bares her teeth at his arm, and Dennis releases his grip with haste. He sticks his foot into the doorframe. 

“Come on,” he tries “I’m just here to warn you before Frank complains about the noise. You should be thanking me.” 

“Oh,” Maureen says “Thanks.” 

The door dips inward. “Wait!” 

“Yeah?” 

“I, uh," his voice cracks a tad, that's awkward " I have to check on my sister.” 

An unfamiliar expression seeps across Maureens face. She studies Dennis as if she's never truly seen him before, then hums in delight. "...okay." 

“Huh?” 

She undoes the lock. “Yeah, okay.” 

So Dennis goes inside and, as Maureen switches the stereo to something quiet and uncomfortable, he observes what’s left of the party. People have left steadily throughout the night and now, though admittedly maybe always, it looks like the reject table at school. There’s barely anyone left. Dee is on the couch, visibly wasted and hanging off a guy Dennis recognizes only vaguely. Over with the food, some kid everyone calls Dirtgrub and his best friend Ronnie The Rat are gorging themselves on cake. Dennis smirks at them. He barks cruel laughter in their direction and Ronnie The Rat notices, bowing his head ashamedly and nudging his friend to slow down with his chewing. 

Within himself, Dennis feels the power rebuilding. He always knew he was above this. Honesty, what a waste of his time it is to even be here. Him, lonely? What a joke. He grins and turns on his heels. He’s way too cool for a Ponderosa party, obviously. He's satisfied like a cat with a saucer of cream. He's reclaimed his rightful place over his peers. When he gets home, he’ll tell Frank and Barbara how awful of a state Dee is in and redeem himself as the better child too. 

Maureen blocks his way. 

“Move.” 

“Not until you do one thing for me, Dennis.” She demands. “We’re a little low on players, so just sit here.” She pushes his shoulders, guiding him to the ground.

Dennis lands on the carpeted floor and Maureen joins him shortly therafter, taking a moment to drag along a few more participants first and arrange them into a circle. Dirtgrub and Ronnie The Rat are pulled in, then Dee's companion ,as she passes out completely at his side. Maureen is the only girl. 

She presents an empty beer can. “Spin the bottle!" 

Ronnie The Rat rubs the back of his neck and raises his hand. "Isn't that kinda gay?" 

The others nod in agreement. 

"There are some new rules, clearly. No boy plus boy spins. I’ll go first, ” Maureen gives a short twist on the can and it flys directly into Dennis’ lap. “You’re up first, Denny.” 

"Woah, no way. That wasn't a real spin." Dirtgrub protests. 

"Fine. Here," Maureen slowly reaches down to grab the can, caressing Dennis' thigh as she does and letting her hand rest there for a prolonged period of time. "Happy?" 

"Are you going to redo it or not?" Dirtgrub asks. 

"Well, it did land on me..." Dennis counters. 

Maureen takes this as permission and pounces on him. Her teeth clash against his. Her mouth is unbearably slobbery but, at the same time, his is uncomfortably dry. There's an off putting smell. It's Dennis' first kiss. And it's terrible. 

He breaks away to cough and comes face to face with Ronnie the Rat, real name Mac Macdonald, seated across the circle, whose eyes are wide and whose mouth is hanging open. Dennis has seen enough porn by now to know that he's visibly turned on. Huh. Dennis feels Mac's gaze following closely as he draws Maureen back in and puts his hands up in her shirt. He keeps his peripheral vision trained on his audience's reaction as he hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her down ontop of himself. He kisses with evident passion but his true focus stays with Mac, who, still watching, lets out a soft gasp. Maureen pushes herself away from Dennis. 

She's tearing up again. She leaves the room.

"Wow," Dirtgrub observes after a brief pause. "Slut." 

"Prostitute." Mac adds unblinkingly, wiping drool off his chin. "And she's got that dead tooth going on too, right Charlie?" 

"Yeah!" His friend confirms. 

"Gross!" They both dissolve into laughter. 

"Dead tooth?" Dennis asks with growing concern. He touches his hand to his mouth. 

"Wow," Dirtgrub observes after a brief pause. "Slut." 

"Prostitute." Mac adds unblinkingly, wiping drool off his chin. "And she's got that dead tooth going on too, right Charlie?" 

"Yeah!" His friend confirms. 

"Gross!" They both dissolve into laughter. 

"Dead tooth?" Dennis asks with growing concern. He touches his hand to his mouth. 

"Oh yeah, dude. You might wanna get that checked out." 

"Right. And diseases anyway. Since she's such a slut." Dennis agrees, shaking Dee awake and leading her carefully outside and homeward. 

Mac gets up hurriedly and jogs alongside him "Definitely, man. And, you know, if you ever want some weed or something to get over the trauma..." 

"What?" 

Maureen is outside, leaning against the porch railing. "What the hell do you want, Dennis?" 

Dennis smiles innocently. "Why'd you kiss me if you hate me so much?" 

"Fuck you, Dennis." 

"Fuck you too, Maureen." Dennis takes a small mascara tube out of his jean pocket and holds it out to her. "Happy Birthday. It's waterproof. " 

//

It’s August 1993, the summer before senior year, and there are several sounds overlapping in Dennis’ bedroom. There’s the effects of DOOM coming out of his TV as Mac blasts martians, there’s the soft rock playing at low volume over his radio, and there’s Frank and Barbara arguing downstairs, their voices travelling up and through the hole he punched in the door, loud and clear under everything else. 

Dennis is laying back against the pillows on his bed, watching Mac obliterate enemies on screen. He plays with a artificial cherry flavoured lollipop, sucking it in and out absently. 

Their clothes stick to their skin. The heat washes in in layers, coating them both in sweat and then floating away for a while until the AC pushes the hot air back in their direction. This goes on in cycles with the screaming and the golden sunlight filtered in by Dee's purple curtains as the clouds go by. All this stimulus and yet their collective focus stays strong on the conversation at hand. This is because it is imminently important and life changing for both of them. 

"This is our last year of school!" 

"God, thanks Mac. I never noticed until just now." 

"Hey, Den?" 

"Hmmm?" he's closing his eyes now, yawning and really settling in. 

"What're you gonna do after high school?" Mac asks eagerly, turning away from the TV to give his full attention to the answer. 

"University, what else?" Dennis responds flippantly "I mean, dad's paying for it so let him waste his money. Why, what are you doing?" 

Mac gets quiet and genuine. "It doesn't matter." 

"Damn straight. Glad you're finally catching on, kid." 

Mac nods but neither of them are sure what he's agreeing to. His DOOM character is long since dead but he continues looking at Dennis, thoughtfully observing the way he sits up and reaches into his bedside table drawer. He keeps observing as he pulls away with an obvious expression of disappointment on his face.

"I can get some weed," Mac offers "Meet me and Charlie under the bleachers tommorow before school starts, okay?" 

"Screw Charlie. You happen to have any condoms?" 

"No." Mac says and suddenly he's standing. "Sex before marriage is a sin, Dennis. Especially..." 

"I'm not coming onto you, idiot." Dennis hisses. "Have you seriously never had sex before?" 

Mac sits back down on the edge of the bed. "Of course. Den, the bible says-" 

"How can you be best friends with me and still be a virgin at seventeen, Mac? It's bad for my reputation. What does the bible say about loyalty?" 

Mac looks down at his feet and wiggles his mismatched socks back and forth. He grabs his abandoned controller off the floor and resumes the game, trying hard to ignore his friend. Dennis scoots forward on the bed until their thighs are touching. He pops his lollipop loudly against his lips. Does it again. Again. Annoying asshole. He swings his feet down and kicks lightly at one of Mac's to distract him. 

"I want to go to Heaven, okay? Dennis, you're my friend, and I want to see you there but, ultimately, you can do whatever you want. Just leave me out of it, 'cause so can I." 

Dennis shrugs and falls back. "Your loss." 

"Wanna get high tomorrow anyway?" 

"Yes." Dennis stands up and pulls the curtain open, pausing to scowl at his reflection as he does so. "First day of senior year. I'm going to need to get high." 

Mac sighs. "Me too, man, me too." 


End file.
